“Leave me my belief, Mother....”
“Delusion....”
Joh Fredersen looked at his mother.
“I should very much like to know,” he said with darkened voice, “on what you feed your cruelty towards, me, mother.”
“On my fears for you, Joh—on my fears!”
“You need have no fears for me, mother....”
“Oh yes, Joh—oh yes! Your sin walks behind you like a good dog on the trail. It does not lose your scent, Joh—it remains always and always at your back. A friend is unarmed against his friend. He has no shield before his breast, nor armour before his heart. A friend who believes in his friend is a defenceless man. A defenceless man was it whom you betrayed, Joh.”
“I have paid for my sin, mother.... Hel is dead. Now I have only Freder left. That is her legacy. I will not give up Hel’s legacy. I have come to you to beg of you, mother: help me to win Freder back.”
The old lady’s eyes were fixed on him, sparkingly.
“What did you answer me, Joh, when I wanted to stop you on your way to Hel?”